


Methos Chronicles 20

by Helis_von_Askir



Series: Methos Chronicles [20]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:07:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27458485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helis_von_Askir/pseuds/Helis_von_Askir
Summary: Carnival! Got to love it.
Series: Methos Chronicles [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1350058
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Methos Chronicles 20

**Author's Note:**

> My twentieth story in one series. Can you believe it?

“Wow, talk about a lively crowd.” Richie had to shout to make himself heard over all the noise the partygoers made. He put the drinks he had just gotten on the table and fell into his chair. “I started considering cutting my way back here with my sword when these people refused to move.”

“Oh please, this is harmless.” MacLeod said with a smile. “You should have seen the carnival balls in Venice, now that was a lively crowd.”

“Yeah,” Methos agreed. “Had a lot of the old Roman orgies about them. Gods, I miss the old days.”

“Hmm, I’m sure I can come up with something to take your mind off the good old days.” Marique whispered into his ear. She was dressed as a Geisha while Methos sported a samurai look. MacLeod had of course dressed in his Highland best, what else. Someone had to explain the concept of carnival to him one of these days. Richie was trying to pull off Carry Grant, with hat an all, and Joe had bowed out of coming along, citing the fact that he had to babysit his new granddaughter so Amy and her husband could have the evening to themselves. Methos really didn’t understand why he couldn’t bring her along. She was four months old, she would sleep through the end of the world.

“I’m sure you can.” Methos smiled at her. “Shall we leave the kids to their fun and find a quiet spot for us?” Oh, he really couldn’t wait to get her out of all those layers of cloth wrapped around her. Why the old Japanese had ever thought it a good idea to pack their women into so much unnecessary fabric he had never understood.

“Ah, must be nice to be in love.” Richie teased and threw Mac a look. The Scot just shrugged and started on his beer while scanning the crowd.

“Waiting for someone?” Methos asked without looking at him. And why would he look at MacLeod when he could look at Marique instead?

“No,” the Highlander replied too quickly.

“Oh, for god’s sake, go and find some girls for tonight, boys.” Marique ordered.

Exchanging looks Richie was the first to get up. “Are you sure? I mean, it’s great hanging out with you guys…”

Methos snorted. “Sure it is. Just go and have fun. This is carnival, after all. You too, MacLeod.”

“I heard it was quite the party last night.” Joe stated the next morning when the Immortals came to his place for a late breakfast. His granddaughter Rebecca lay on his lap, happily drinking her bottle.

Methos smiled. “It was good.”

“But there were better?” Joe asked. “Tell me all about it, oh old wise one.”

Methos looked into the distance with a smile. “Let me think, oh yes, there was that one time in Venice…”

Venice, Italy, 1750 AD

After making sure his chests were safely in his rooms, Methos departed his rented house for a stroll through Venice. It had been quite a while since he had been here last. During one of the crusades, he was pretty sure. The one where they had sacked Constantinople, yes, that had been it. He and a fellow Immortal had gotten on a ship and sailed here to escape the ensuing massacre. Ironic, really, since the Doge of Venice had had his fingers all over that little escapade.

Carnival was just beginning now and everywhere you looked you could see the signs. Methos hadn’t come here because of that, though he had heard a lot about what was going on in the city during that time of year. Roman orgies came to mind.

But he was here on business. He planned to set up a new life and Venice was a very good place to lose the old on. But the carnival was an added bonus. No reason not to enjoy a few days before becoming someone else.

He dealt with business first. He had put some money and jewelry into a bank in the city back during that darn crusade and they would allow him to start a new comfortable life now. The money from his old life he had already put into another account at another bank to be used at a later date.

The house was already rented in his new name and once these last transactions were finished, Peter River would simply disappear into the chaos and madness that was Venice and Adam Crawley would take his place.

The employee Methos spoke with was rather shocked that someone still remembered the account, let alone had the authorization to access it. The young mortal hurried to his boss just to make sure. The elderly man then took care of it himself and only an hour later he had free access to his money.

“Will you leave Venice immediately?” The man wanted to know, probably eager to ensure that such a rich customer wouldn’t leave too soon.

“No, I think I’ll stay a few days to enjoy the atmosphere.” Methos told him. It would be rude of him to not give the man some time to put the books back in order. Methos didn’t care too much if they had taken some of his money in the past, as long as the account was correct now, or in a day or two.

“Then allow me to suggest the ball of Lady Isabella. Everyone will be there. I can arrange an invitation if Signore would like me to.”

“Indeed? Then I shall be sure to pay my respects.” Methos replied. After he found out all he could about Lady Isabella.

Lady Isabella de Camenei was the incredible rich widow of the late Viscount de Camenei. It had been one of these oh so popular matches of a very old man and a very young woman. Because of that Lady Isabella was now a childless widow at the ripe age of twenty-two.” And she didn’t seem inclined to remarry even after four years.

After receiving the invitation from the bank manager all Methos had to do was get himself a costume. But being a foreigner he got away with only wearing one of those fancy masks. And it didn’t even look like a skull, thank you very much.

When he entered the palazzo that evening the entrance was already filling up. Taking in the other guests Methos could not help but wonder how many of the women, and some of the men, even moved, overloaded as they were in jewels and layers of fabric, making them look rather ridiculous.

The immortal presence washing suddenly over him brought him back to the present and as he walked up the stairs to be presented to Lady Isabella he realized that the hostess was the Immortal in question. Twenty-two, really, that was pushing it, even for her.

“Lady Isabella.” Methos bowed and kissed the offered hand.

“Mr. Crawly, what a pleasure.” She replied with a smile. “And what an inventive costume.”

Methos shrugged. “I do apologize but it was all rather short notice, I’m afraid. You don’t mind too terrible, do you?”

“I will let it pass this once, Mr. Crowley,” Nahaam replied with a wicked smile under her mask. “But in recompense I must insist on at least one dance.”

Methos hated to dance these ridiculously complicated performances mortals came up with these days, which Nahaam knew very well, but then she did look gorgeous in that tight bodice and voluminous skirts. So good in fact that he didn’t even mind having to dance with her. And who knew, maybe more. After all, she would need help getting out of that dress. It might as well be him.

He bowed again. “I’m at your service, Lady Isabella.”

Nahaam smiled again. “Good to know. Enjoy your evening, Mr. Crawley.”

Taking a tour of the palazzo, Methos stumbled over more than one couple in a dark corner, sometimes more than just a couple. Methos merely raised his wineglass and moved on. There were also several other Immortals in attendance. Rebecca, Alexander, Amanda and Hera, he of course knew, the others, like Liam or Walter he had heard off but so far not met, and now didn’t seem the right moment to introduce himself, they were busy, after all.

And Amanda seemed particularly interested in memorizing the palazzo’s layout but Rebecca didn’t seem worried so Methos wasn’t either. Besides, Nahaam would teach that young girl a lesson should she dare steal from her. A glaringly stupid idea, if he ever heard one.

“You have such interesting and entertaining guests.” Methos commented to Nahaam while they were standing at one of the many windows overlooking the inner garden where two young men were fucking each other like there was no tomorrow.

“It’s carnival, let them have their fun.” Nahaam shrugged. “Tomorrow they’ll pretend to never have met, more’s the pity, they look beautiful.”

“They do.” Methos agreed. He was half tempted to do down and join them, but then he still owed Nahaam, didn’t he? And he was a good guest, he would never leave his host unsatisfied.

The two young men came to a glorious finish and collapsed onto the cool grass, too spent to get up. Ah, well, they were young, they would survive a night outside.

“Show’s over, Mr. Crawley, time for you…” Nahaam was interrupted from loud shouts coming from main dining room. “Excuse me for a moment.” She handed him her wineglass and hitched up her skirts and then glided away to prevent whatever bloodshed was about to occur. This wasn’t a Nordic long hall were a couple of murders during any kind of festivities were appreciated.

“Don’t tell me you have been abandoned, Methos.” Rebecca murmured when she found him alone at the window a few moments later.

Methos smiled. “Our beloved hostess is just dealing with a little matter, and it is a wonderful view from here.”

“Oh, aren’t they just adorable?” Rebecca asked when she saw the two men down in the garden. They were now fast asleep in each other’s arms. “Shall we do the same while we wait for Nahaam?”

“Fall asleep outside?” Methos asked with mock-confusion.

Rebecca slapped his chest lightly. “Don’t try to be funny, it doesn’t suit you. I was more thinking along the lines of getting naked and have semi-public sex.”

“Oh, that.” Methos pretended to think that over until Rebecca lifted her hand to slap him again. “I would be honored, my dear friend, but before we do, maybe you should tell that student of yours to not take anything that isn’t hers while she’s here, or when she comes back later. I saw her eyeing that china service not too long ago.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “That girl will be the death of me one day. But I warned her, if she ignores it, she’s on her own. I’ll not have her ruin the mood, because there is that balcony overlooking the canal that I’ve just been dying to give a try.”

“Oh, do lead the way, my lady.” Methos said and bowed with a flourish. He wasn’t worried about Nahaam, she would find them soon enough, he was sure.

He was pounding into Rebecca from behind who was holding on to the railing of the balustrade when Nahaam joined them.

“Now, what’s this? Did you two start without me? How very rude.” She said in mock-outrage.

“Well, you were busy and she was offering.” Methos panted. “But I haven’t forgotten you.”

“I certainly hope not.” Nahaam leaned against the railing next to them. “And how many of my neighbors did shock so far?”

“Not nearly enough.” Rebecca managed to get out as Methos hit just the right spot inside her.

Nahaam leaned forward and kissed Rebecca long and hard. “You two are going to pay for starting without me. This is my ball, after all.”

Rebecca grinned before groaning as Methos drove her over the edge. She was beyond words for a good long while as she rode her orgasm.

“We’re looking forward to our punishment, my lady.” Methos assured her, stilling himself as Rebecca slowly straightened. He hadn’t come yet, but the night was still young and he had two women to satisfy now. “Will you do it here or shall we retire to your bedroom?”

“Ah, you do know how I like my creature comforts.” Nahaam said. “Follow me, and don’t forget your clothes, I wouldn’t want them to get wet.”

Nahaam’s bedroom was dominated by a huge four-poster bed. There was a fire burning in the hearth, warming the room on this February night.

Since Methos and Rebecca were already naked, they merely dropped their clothes on a pile on the floor before helping Nahaam out of her dress. They then all climbed onto the bed and Methos got busy between Nahaam’s legs. Rebecca not one to be left out settled herself over Nahaam’s face and the other woman didn’t need any prompting to fasten her mouth to her clit.

Soon the only sounds to be heard where the moans and groans of the three Immortals, especially once Methos replaced his mouth with his cock and fucked Nahaam hard and fast.

She was then also the first to come, making her bite Rebecca’s clit which caused her to come too and since Methos wasn’t one to be left out he thrusted deep into Nahaam a couple more times and then exploded inside her. And that was only the start.

The next morning came far too soon for Methos. But nature also called and with a sigh the old Immortal detangled himself from the sleeping forms of his lovers and silently he made his way to the privy. On the way back he happened to glance outside and saw that one of the young men from last night was still lying in the grass, dead to the world and looking rather cold.

Without waking the two women, he dressed and headed into the courtyard. The weather was fine enough for this time of year but there was the last chill of winter in the air this early in the morning. It wouldn’t do for the young mortal to catch his death and make trouble for Nahaam.

The man was still asleep when Methos entered the courtyard and the old man wasn’t above a bit of fun and cooped some water from the well in his hands and dropped it on the mortal. He got some slurred, yet inventive curses as a response, followed by a long groan when the man finally realized where he was and what state of undress he was in. The hangover wasn’t helping either.

“Good morning.” Methos greeted him cheerfully from the lone stone bench while the mortal tried to cover himself.

“Ah, a good morning to you too, Sir.” He eventually said. “Could I, by any chance, trouble you for some clothes?”

Methos pretended to consider that for a bit before reaching behind the bench and throwing a pile of clothes at the young man. “Those should fit.”

The young man quickly donned them and tried to tame his unruly hair with his fingers, rather unsuccessfully. “My thanks,” he said as gracefully as he could. “I’m Joseph Pembroke, at your service.”

“Adam Crawley, at yours.” Methos introduced himself. “Shall we find ourselves some breakfast? You look like you could do with a good cup of tea.”

Joseph nodded and then twisted his mouth when his head protested the sudden movement. “Tea sounds wonderful, yes.”

Breakfast was being served in one of the smaller dining rooms where the servants has set the table for about a dozen people. Only three had found their way there so far.

Joseph Pembroke changed between holding his pounding head and cradling his teacup. He never looked up, probably afraid he would run into his lover from last night. After all, such things were not done, were actually illegal in most countries. Methos pretended not to notice the furtive glances Joseph kept throwing around. He was sure the other young man had left the palazzo some time during the night.

“Have you been in Venice long, Mr. Crawley?” Joseph’s good upbringing finally reasserting itself.

“Not long, no. Just collecting an inheritance, to be honest.” Methos replied, digging into his breakfast with gusto while Pembroke looked on rather green in the face.

“Oh, then how do you know the Lady Isabella?” the mortal wanted to know.

Methos smiled a little. “We are old acquaintances, though we have not seen each other in some years. We spent some of our childhood together in the care of a teacher neither of us cared for.”

“I see.” Joseph muttered. Methos knew he looked young enough to pass as in his early twenties so the story wasn’t beyond plausible, but it would appear that it still needed some work. “Do you have plans for today?” he asked after a few minutes.

“Not so far.” Methos replied, wondering where this was going. “I assume you have? And want me to come along for, I don’t know, moral support?”

Pembroke blushed furiously. “Well, there is another ball this afternoon, and I am to meet my fiancé there, for the first time. And I was hoping for a friendly face. And since you have been kind enough to help me out before…”

Methos chocked his head. “I would assume your fiancé and her family would be friendly enough.”

“One would think so.” Pembroke cringed. “But just in case they’re not, it would help to at least have one person there not completely ignoring my discomfort.”

That was daringly frank for a Brit, but Methos found that he kind of liked the young man. “I’m sure your fiancé will be a perfectly pleasant young woman, but I have heard that future mother-in-law’s can be quite daunting, therefore it would be my duty to help. Tell me where and when to meet you and I’ll be there.”

It was as splendid an affair as Nahaam’s ball but much more restrained. After all, the sun was still up and that meant proper behavior. Mortals were so strange sometimes. As if it made any difference whether it was night or day when they got down to it.

Joseph fidgeted the whole time and Methos had to stop him more than once from reaching for a glass of wine, or he would already be drunk senselessly and the future bride and her family hadn’t even arrived yet.

“Have you ever been married?” Joseph asked.

Methos forced himself to remain calm. “Yes, but my wife passed away a while ago.” He was inheriting her money right now. Not that she had really existed but any of his wives could stand in for her in this conversation.

“How was it? The marriage, I mean?” Joseph wanted to know.

“Children?”

“No, no children.” Methos shook his head. He always thought that that was a blessing for Immortals. It was cruel to watch loved ones die. Worst of all were children, he didn’t think that it made a difference if they were of one’s own blood or adopted. It had not stopped him from raising many, but it was not wise.

“Well, I’m sorry for your loss.” Joseph said somewhat awkwardly. “Oh, here they come.”

An elderly couple came towards them followed by two women, one young and rather good looking, the bride, Methos assumed, the other somewhat older, stern looking, a governess or maid, presumably.

Joseph and Methos bowed to them before the mortal spoke. “Lord and Lady Constante, such a pleasure, Allow me to introduce a friend of mine, David Crawley.”

Methos bowed again as did Lord Constante. Lady Constante gave him a cold look and then ignored him.

“Now, let me introduce my daughter, Elisabetha.” Constante turned and waved the young woman forward. She couldn’t be older then fifteen. She curtsied perfectly before smiling shyly at Joseph.

“A pleasure to finally meet you.” Joseph told her and took her hand to blow a kiss on it. The young man seemed quite taken with his new bride after all.

Over the next few weeks Methos often saw Joseph. The weeding was to be held in Venice soon after Easter and then a second one back in England. Until then, bride and groom could only meet a few times, much to Joseph’s annoyance, which was why he spent so much time with Methos.

“That harpy of a mother thinks I would deflower Elisabetha first chance I get. As if I had no honor.” Joseph fumed. They were in his house for a light dinner as carnival was now over and Lent had begun, which meant no balls or other entertainment for a while. Though Joseph was Anglican and didn’t actually have to follow that particular rule.

“Well, you will, won’t you?” Methos asked with a smile. “It’s called the wedding night.”

Joseph scoffed. “Very funny. At least her mother won’t be coming along to England. God, can you imagine her and my mother in the same room?”

“As I have never met your mother, no.” Methos pointed out.

“Oh, right.” Joseph waved his hand dismissively. “Well, she wasn’t in favor of this match in the first place. She thinks Elisabetha converting isn’t good enough. Oh, never mind. Let’s talk about more pleasant things. Like the Lady Isabella and you.”

Methos smiled and sipped his wine. “A gentleman never tells.”

Present Day

“He sounds like a nice chap, a good friend.” Joe commented when Methos finished his little tale.

Methos nodded slowly. “He was, a very good one. He knew I was different and didn’t care. I mean, he swung both ways, as the saying goes and knew that not everything could be easily put into nice little boxes. Did you know he even entrusted his youngest son to my care when the boy went off to Russia to try make his fortune?”

Joe made a face. “Russia? What could there possible be in Russia? Aside from snow and a bunch of crazy Cossacks?”

Methos smiled. “Catherine the Great.”

St. Petersburg, Russia, 1777 AD

Wigs, he hated wigs. Especially these ridiculous powdered ones. At least the ones he had to wear in Egypt had served a purpose and everyone had been bald under them, even the women. Nowadays they were just to show off.

Refusing the desire to scratch his head, Methos clapped his hands behind his back and looked at his companion. Francis Pembroke, youngest son of the Earl of Pembroke, had come to Russia to find his luck. Not much of that to be had back in England for younger sons apparently, since he wasn’t the only one at the Russian court.

Methos had only come along because Francis’ father had asked him to. The Earl of Pembroke was worried that his son would get himself into all kinds of trouble if he didn’t have someone watching him. Not entirely untrue, there were certain rumors going around about the court of Catherine I of House Romanov. Despite appearances it was not the most sophisticated court in the world. And then there was the tsarina herself.

It was said that she had the appetite of ten women and that she took one lover after the other. Methos didn’t quite understand what was wrong with that, she was a widow so why shouldn’t she? And even if her husband were still around, she was the one in charge, she could sleep around if she wanted to. Besides, she had an heir, the line was secure. And if anyone wanted to bed an older woman, what was wrong with that? At least they had some experience. And Catherine was still a very good looking woman even at nearly fifty. She was putting on some weight but she wore it well.

“Guess I have to close my eyes and think of England.” Francis muttered as the tsarina as she held court.

“There are other ways.” Methos whispered back. English inheritance laws were sometimes funny, but usually one could find a way to work something out. But Francis didn’t want to be depended on his father or brothers. A woman didn’t seem to count, though. Methos knew there was a reason he found the English so amusing.

Francis shook his head slightly. “Not for me.”

And Francis charmed the Russian queen, or empress, when he and Methos were finally introduced. She directly invited them to a ball that was to be held that evening in honor of some long past national event or other. Methos wasn’t really paying attention. Besides, who cared why the ball was being held as long as there was enough alcohol?

“How do you think my chances are?” Francis asked afterwards as they mingled with the other courtiers. “She’s still good looking enough, I think.”

“I think to get into her bed you need to make friends with Potemkin.” Methos replied.” He’s the one picking her lovers.”

“How do you know?” Francis asked surprised. “And isn’t that kind of gross?”

Methos shrugged. “You only have to look at them to know that they still mean a lot to each other. He would never allow a man near her who would harm her in any way. And he is still her main confidant. Mark my words, the way to the money you want is first through him and second through her.”

Francis squared his shoulders. “As long as I don’t have to bed him.”

It was kind of amusing how much work Francis put into becoming a favorite. That he was a foreigner was both an advantage and a disadvantage. Foreigners were exotic but also mistrusted but young Francis managed to not only charm Catherine but also Potemkin and before long he did find himself in the bedchambers of the tsarina.

Methos observed all of this from the side-lined and passed his time with a young penniless countess who needed a rich husband or at least lover. Methos had no intention of becoming the first, not so soon after Lisa, but he found he enjoyed being the second. And Maria Petrovna seemed to be content with that also.

“What’s all this?” he asked her one day when he came into the rooms he was renting in St. Petersburg. The sitting room was overflowing with rich fabrics and other things women used to dress in.

“The tsarina has ordered a masquerade, like they do in Venice. I need a costume but I just can’t decide that to wear.” Maria explained and ran a hand over the dark green silk embroidered with gold.

“I see.” Methos said. That would be quite the affair. Russians thought the more the better and good taste be damned. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Oh no, the seamstress much take your measurements for your costume too.” Maria told him with a wicked glint in her eyes.

“And where is the seamstress? It seems I cannot see her.” Methos pointed out.

“Well, she left for the day, but I can take them just as well. If you would just get out of your coat.” Maria ran her hands over his shoulders and took the coat with it.

Methos smiled at her. “And what else do I have to take off for you to take my measurements? Pray do tell.”

“Oh, well, all of it, of course.” She said and started to undo his shirt. “But we really need to decide what colors we’re going to wear.”

Methos nodded. “Of course. How about we see what suits your skin tone best? But you’ll have to take that dress off so we can see properly.”

Maria giggled and reached for his pants. “Yes, I absolutely agree, we should be very thorough.”

The ball was opulent, to be polite. Both men and women wore dresses and jewels worth enough to feed the entire Russian population well for a couple of years. Not that anyone here would ever stop to think of the common people. What did it mater that they starved by the hundreds and thousands every winter as long as the aristocracy could waste their time in such a glorious fashion?

Methos wisely kept such thoughts to himself but he couldn’t help thinking them as he stood at the back of the ball room observing those mortals get drunk and then throw out even the few shreds of good behavior they had. Not that most courts were much better, but they usually stopped short of trashing the tableware.

“Good thing the tsarina grew tired of making men dress in women’s clothes.” Francis said standing next to him. “Can you imagine having to wear something like that?” He indicated the women swirling in front of them.

“I’m sure it would be quite the experience.” Methos replied diplomatically. “And I think that was the one before Catherine.” The late tsarina Elisabeth’s preference of dressing herself as a man, and making all the other women at court do the same while men wore the dresses was still the talked about in the rest of Europe.

“Quite.” Francis nodded and sighed when she saw Catherine beckon him towards her. “Well, duty calls.”

If he expected Methos to have pity with him, he was in for a disappointment. Francis had known what he was getting into when he had come up with this idea. And as the saying went, once you’ve made your bed, you had to lie in it. And with a woman like Catherine, whose appetite for men was indeed rather large, Francis did a lot of lying in bed.

Methos was getting ready for a night at the ballet when Francis stormed into the house unannounced.

“David! David! Where are you?” he shouted at the top of his lungs.

“Whatever is the matter?” Methos asked amused as he came down the stairs and saw the frantic mortal pacing the entrance hall.

“I’ve fallen out of favor with Catherine.” Francis told him, worrying his hands all the while.

Methos sighed. So much for the ballet. “Well, did you do something stupid or did another man catch her eye?”

“Both, I’m afraid.” Francis looked at him pleadingly. “I said some stupid things about the man and Catherine herd of them from him. She’s not pleased, threatened to have me arrested.”

“Then we better leave Russia.” Methos said and rang for the butler. It was easy to lose your life in Russia over the tiniest thing. And Methos preferred to not risk it unnecessarily. He would send a note and some money to Maria once they has passed the Russian border.

“I hope you have her presents with you.” Methos called over his shoulder as he headed back upstairs to pack.

“Everything I can carry on my person. The horses, the house, well, I can do without, maybe sell them once she has calmed down.” Francis replied as he followed him up.

“I wouldn’t count on that to happen. She’ll probably hand the mover to the new man.” Methos said. “No matter, let’s just get out of here.”

Present Day

“Damn,” Joe muttered. “And you just left, one moment to the next? Over some lover’s quarrel?”

Methos shrugged. “What else could we do? Disagreeing with the tsarina wasn’t a healthy hobby and Francis not only insulted the new man in her bed by making fun of him, he also insulted Potemkin by doing so. And there was no one Catherine loved better than him. She had people executed for less. Most rulers the world over did.”

Joe nodded his head. “Yeah, good thing we have due process and all that now. Where did you head then?”

Methos finished his drink and placed a gentle kiss on little Rebecca’s forehead. The little girl smiled in her sleep. “That, grandpa Joe, is a story for another time.”

End


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